The Dybbuk
by Amalya
Summary: Jewish girls from a Russian shtetl encounter a newly ensouled Angel in 1904.
1. Chapter 1

Disclamer: Angel belongs to Joss Whedon, everyone else belongs to me. I am making no money off of this fic.

Summary: A group of Jewish girls from a Russian _shtetl_ encounter a newly ensouled Angel in 1904.

The _Dybbuk_

"Saraleh," Mama shouted as I left the house with the laundry. "Saraleh, Saraleh, your hair!" I touched my head, and shook it. Earlier that morning, I had let my sisters Rivke and D'vora play with my hair. It was now divided with many little braids, some of them with ribbons threaded through them. I rushed back inside and set down the laundry.

"Saraleh, you have grown into a young woman_, keyna-horah_, and you no longer can run out with your hair like that!" Mama's face was stern, but her eyes were smiling. She was amused.

"Sorry, Mama, I had forgotten." I had. Overall, I live up to my parent's expectations, but often little things slip my mind. A fortnight ago, I had patted my friend Avram on the shoulder, and, although he was six years younger than me, his mother had frowned in disapproval. "_Snius, Snius_. . ." she had muttered. Everyone else pretended not to notice.

Mama helped me comb my hair out before plaiting it into two neat braids. I thought it looked childish, but I said nothing. No matter what others might say about my age, a girl is not a woman until she stands under the _chuppah_. I gathered the laundry back into my arms and went out to the washing.

The river was cold and fresh; soothing contrasts to the heat of July. I looked around, and when I saw that only my friend Tzippy and cousin Chava were there, I splashed the water on my face and arms. I accidentally splashed Tzippy too, so she splashed me in return. She of course got Chava, and soon we were all splashing each other. We were all half soaked before Chava stopped laughing. Her smile had melted and slid off her face. Tzippy and I turned to the spot at which Chava was staring.

In the shadow of the trees a young man, emaciated and haggard, was slumped against an old birch. He was as pale as _Zayde_, may his memory be a blessing, had been just before he died, and he was shivering despite the heat. He wore no head covering; he was a _goy_, and his long and lank hair fell to his shoulders and obscured his face, but I could tell he was staring at us. He seemed so . . . hungry.

Chava, Tzippy and I drew closer together. "A deserter of the Russian army," I whispered. A coldness with nothing to do with the water from the river started to grow in my stomach.

"No," Chava replied. "He isn't wearing a uniform."

"Maybe he stole some clothing," Tzippy murmured. I almost started to laugh. There was a strange frightening _goy_ only a few meters away from us and we were arguing about his clothing?

"Maybe, if we give him some food, he'll leave us alone," Tzippy whispered, and she bent down to take some of the _rugelach_ she had packed. She stepped forward, holding the pastry out before. The man looked around him warily, and when she came close, it seemed to me as if his eyes flashed yellow, and his face _changed_ for a moment. The others must have seen it too, because Tzippy let out a small scream and ran back to us, dropping the _rugelach_. Chava clutched at my arm. The coldness grew in my stomach and spread throughout my body until I was shivering like the _goy_. When I looked back at him, his face was back to normal.

Tzippy spoke first. "_Ribbono shel Oylam_, he is a _dybbuk_! My father taught me about his kind. They are from the _Sitra Achra_, and possess the dead." Chava, the worldly and practical one shook her head and managed a weak smile. But I kept shivering. Tzippy's father was a scholar of _Kabbala_ and was in my own father's opinion a very wise man. I trusted Tzippy _and _her father.

We all were startled when the _dybbuk_ spoke in a rasping and low. "Please," it said in Russian. "Go away. Leave me. Just go away."

"You will not harm us?" questioned Chava who spoke the best Russian.

The demon looked away and swallowed. "No, I won't. Just leave."

We stood frozen for a few seconds before I shook my head and grabbed Tzippy and Chava's arms and started to run away. We ran without stopping until we reached the market square.

"Oh no!" Chava moaned. "We forgot the laundry!" We all looked at each other before breaking into hysterical laughter that bordered on crying.

Glossary of Yiddish Words:

_Chuppah_ – wedding canopy.

_Dybbuk_ – spirit that possesses people.

_Goy_ – non-Jew.

_Kabbala _– Jewish mystical texts.

_Keyna-hora_ – words to ward away the evil eye. Kind of like knock-wood.

_Ribbono shel Oylam_ – Master of the Universe, a title for God.

_Rugelach_ – a kind of pastry.

_Shtetl _– small village.

_Sitra Achra _– literally, the Other Side. Roughly means the world from which evil comes.

_Snius _-- modesty

_Zayde_ – grandfather


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Angel belongs to Joss Whedon, everyone else belongs to me. I am making no money off this fic.

Chapter Two

My mother was not happy when I came home without the laundry. She was even less happy when I told her why. Well, I didn't exactly tell her why. I told her there was a strange _goy _watching us from the woods. With my brother soon to become a _bar mitzvah_, she had enough to worry about, and although logically I knew I should tell her that the _goy_ was a _Dybbuk,_ something stopped me. He had not harmed us and I felt I owed it to him to keep the secret.

"Oy, Saraleh, _Baruch Hashem_, you made it out alright!" My mother fussed over me and spat between two fingers. "But what are we to do about the clothes? God knows we are hardly rich, and we don't have the money to buy new clothes."

"Raisel, Sarah will retrieve the clothes tomorrow, no one will have stolen them, it's late in the day yet," my father reasoned. "_Nu_ a _goy_ was there today, he won't be there tomorrow."

I left to change from my wet and dirty clothes. By the time I came back down, there was a table to set, a chicken to pluck, and dishes to wash. It was enough to drive the _Dybbuk_ from my mind. I wasn't so lucky when I went to sleep that night.

I tried to concentrate on my sisters' breathing to calm me, but all I could see was his starved face, his yellow eyes. I felt awful. I had been brought up taught to feed the hungry and give to charity, and I had seen no one looking hungrier than the man at the stream. I resolved to bring some _rugelach_ with me the next day and to leave it under the tree where I last saw him. It might get to him, it might not, but at least it would be a gesture. I finally fell asleep.

When I woke up the next day, It was to a whole new round of chores. It was Friday, and there was much to do to prepare for _Shabbos._ I helped my mother bake the _challa_ and prepare the meal. I visited the butcher, the baker, and the tailor. It was late afternoon before I could go and retrieve the laundry.

I tucked my hair under a kerchief, and took a basket and some _rugelach_ wrapped in a cloth to the stream. When I arrived at first sight I didn't find the clothes, which should have been strewn around the riverbank, and I was scared that someone _had_ stolen them. Mama was right, we were not a rich family, and could not afford to lose the clothing. But as I looked closer, I found the clothes folded up under the tree in three separate piles, a pile each for Chava, Tzippy, and me. I assumed the demon did that, and I felt good about leaving the pastry under the tree. I took our clothes, and I hoped that the next time I came, the _rugelach _would be gone.

Glossary of Yiddish Words:

_Bar Mitzva – _son of the commandments, and a coming of age ceremony.

_Baruch Hashem_ – Praised be God.

_Challah –_ braided bread eaten on Friday nights.

_Dybbuk – _a spirit that posses others' bodies.

_Goy_ – a gentile, non-Jew.

_Nu – _well, so?

_Rugelach –_ a kind of pastry

_Shabbos – _the Jewish Sabbath lasting from Friday night to Saturday night.


End file.
